"A package?" Shinohara echoed, confused. Did I order something and forget?
"Yes," said Okazaki. "Seemed to be a personal delivery, too. She wasn't from one of the big companies, anyway. Said her name was Eiko. You know her, perhaps?"
Shinohara shook her head without really thinking about it. No one she knew would leave her a mysterious package and not even give a surname. Sure, the newspaper got anonymous tips like that, but that was work. No one would send something like that to her home address…unless…
The receptionist heaved the box up onto the front desk with a grunt. "Bulky old thing," she grumbled, catching Shinohara's eye. "Whoever sent this, tell them to pack it normally next time."
Shinohara grinned. Okazaki's good-natured complaints were how the older woman made herself memorable and bonded with the residents of the apartment building.
The grin fell away, though, when Shinohara saw the top of the box. Scrawled on the cardboard was a messy drawing of a signet ring with a rose design—the seal of Ohtori Academy.
The hair prickled on the back of Shinohara's neck. She hadn't made it a secret that she was collecting information about her old school, but there was still a big difference between that and mysterious packages.
"Shinohara-san?" said Okazaki, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
Shinohara forced a smile back onto her face. "Yes, sorry," she replied, reaching out to take the package. It was awkward, with the weight inside shifting alarmingly as she tilted it under her arm. "I just wasn't expecting to see that…design. It's from school."
Okazaki looked bewildered at this point, but she just shook her head. "All right, if you say so."
Shinohara stepped away from the counter. "I'll just put this back in my room and then I'm off to work," she said, mostly to herself. "Thanks, Okazaki-san."
"You're welcome; itte rasshai," Okazaki replied with a raised eyebrow before turning back to her computer.
Shinohara took the elevator back up to her cramped sixth floor apartment, and set the package down on the table. There didn't seem to be anything too strange about it—just an ordinary brown box, like those used by shipping companies. In fact, there was even a large splotch that had probably been a company logo before being blacked out by the same thick marker used to draw the school seal.
Her curiosity got the better of her. Shinohara took out her keys and sliced open the packing tape with a quick jab, then pulled the box open. It was immediately clear what made the box so uneven: a stack of large hardback books had shifted in the too-large package, squashing some of the other contents. On top of the books was a stapled sheaf of papers, labeled "The Tale of the Rose".
Frowning, Shinohara set the packet aside to get a look at the books. "Ohtori Academy, 1996-1997". A yearbook? She did some quick calculations. So I would have been in…middle school, first year.
She lifted the book out of the box, instinctively meaning to flip through to find her own class photo. Her eye was caught, however, by what was underneath the fallen book—a single pink rose, preserved with formaldehyde but with one side crushed and battered from the repeated impact of the yearbook inside the box. Tucked in behind the rose were a few strips of film negatives, the kind you'd use in a handheld camera in the 90s.
Shinohara couldn't help but give a sad smile at the damage done to what must have once been a picture-perfect floral specimen. She turned her attention back to the yearbook, cracking it open and flipping through to the end-of-year class photos. But the page she stopped on was one of the second-year middle school classes, not the first. Shinohara frowned again as she noticed the corner of the page had been folded back, marking the spot for some reason.
Suspicious now, she pulled out the other two books in the stack, opening each one in turn. These two also had a marked page, and again it was second-year middle school photos.
Hang on, is that Kiryuu-san's brother? Indeed, the superior smile of 15-year-old Kiryuu Touga beamed up at her from the page. He looks so full of life, Shinohara thought sadly. His poor sister.
The third book was even older, from 1990. Shinohara had no reason to recognize anybody from this year. So why—
"Wait…" she said aloud. There was something about the three pictures, something in common. It took her a moment to place it, but there it was: a girl with darker skin, probably not Japanese. She was standing in a different place in each photo, and had different hairstyles, but somehow Shinohara was convinced she was looking at one person, not three. But that's… She scanned the list of names below the most recent photo, counted heads…and realized that there was one fewer name than there were faces on that row.
Shinohara sat back, troubled. None of this made any sense, but she felt a strong urge to find her second-year yearbook photo and—
Her phone buzzed, and Shinohara jumped and almost fell over. For a moment she had been drawn back into her school days again, a world without digital cameras or professional responsibilities or ubiquitous cell phones. She dug through her purse and pulled the phone out, then let herself relax when she saw it was just a routine text from a coworker. But I really do have to get to work today! she admonished herself.
She carefully grabbed the film negatives from the box and tucked them into a padded pocket in her purse. Then with a last scowl at the open yearbooks, she stood up and headed for the door.
A/N: While "Eiko" is definitely a joke I expect Utena fans to get, there's a second one in there that's probably too subtle: Okazaki's "You know her, perhaps?" is intended to be translated as "Gozonji, kashira?"
I've run out of buffer again, so the next section may take more than a week